


Landline

by celestaeil



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25676086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestaeil/pseuds/celestaeil
Summary: "You know you can just call, right?"Billy X Steve - Stranger Things College AUTimeframe: after season 3, without the supernatural plotline, Eleven is Hopper's daughter
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Landline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnnys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnys/gifts).



**EPISODE 1: Hitching a ride.**

_Hawkins, Steve's front yard._

It was the last day of August, 1985. The sun was high in the sky, an ice cream truck trundled by a few blocks down, and kids were out playing in the local park. It was the last day of summer. But for Steve, it was also the first day of college.

"Is that the last box?" Dustin asked as Steve came out to the car, a cardboard box in his arms.

"Yeah, that's the last of it," Steve answered, setting the box on the back seat and brushing his hair off his forehead.

"How come you don't just use, I don't know, a suitcase?" Robin questioned from where she sat cross-legged on the wall next to the Harringtons' mail box.

"I spent my savings on college, not cases, loser," Steve retorted. "And shouldn't you be in school or something?"

"You know I was smart enough to skip a grade, dingus," she replied, jumping down from the wall and dusting off her knee-length socks.

_"You know I was smart enough to skip a grade,"_ Steve mocked in a whiny tone.

"School doesn’t start until next week. You sick of seeing us already?" Dustin joked, crossing his arms over his Camp _Know Where_ t-shirt.

"Not you, kiddo, just her," said Steve, jerking his head in Robin's direction. "Eight hours shifts daily with her all summer still isn't my idea of fun."

"Don't act like you didn’t keep your hat from Scoops Ahoy," Robin scoffed, tucking her blond wavy hair behind her ears. "Well, see you later, dingus."

"Will you ever stop calling me that?" the older boy groaned, reluctantly holding out his arms as she practically jumped on him to give him a hug.

"Nope," she replied, ruffling his hair after letting go.

"Watch the hair," he warned, narrowing his eyes at her whilst he attempted to fix his hair in the reflection of the back window.

"Where's my hug?" Dustin demanded.

"Right here," Steve answered, grabbing the younger in a rough hug. "Satisfied?"

"Mostly," the curly-haired boy said, adjusting his cap. "I'm still annoyed that you're not taking any science electives at college."

"Please," said Steve, shutting the trunk of his car and tucking a loose bit of his shirt hem into his skinny jeans. "Science is for nerds."

"That's his way of saying he's not smart enough," Robin chipped in.

"Alright, enough snark," Steve told them, tugging open the driver's door. "Well, I'm off, I guess."

"Too bad your parents aren't back until Monday," Dustin remarked as Steve got in the car, shrugging out of his denim jacket and tossing it on the pile of boxes on the back seat.

"Everyone knows Florida is nice this time of year," Steve said sarcastically.

"I'll call you loads!" Robin called, running after the car as Steve pulled out of the driveway.

"Please don't!"

"I will, too!" Dustin yelled.

"Bye!" Steve yelled, waving an arm out of the window as Robin and Dustin's forms grew smaller in the review mirror. Something fell over in the backseat, sounding like it broke, as he rounded the corner at the end of the block. "Probably wasn't important," he reasoned, turning on the radio, and turning it up. He was going to college, leaving the dead little town of Hawkins and hopefully heading towards more partying, alcohol, and girls than ever.

And that's all that mattered at this point.

_“Girls on film.... Girls on film,”_ he was singing an hour or so later, tapping the steering wheel and enjoying the easy journey down the open roads.

A deep revving ripped through the dry summer air, gaining in pitch as a small dark shape appeared in the shimmering heat. A car was approaching in Steve’s rearview mirror, the loud revs of its engine mixing with the pounding music pouring out of the open windows. The driver wore sunglasses, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he nodded to the beat. Steve rolled his eyes as the car sped up towards him.

_“...I’m on the hunt I’m after you…”_ The music could probably be heard from miles around.

“Joyriders,” he muttered.

_“...I smell like I sound…”_

The shiny dark blue Camaro was almost upon Steve’s car, before it swung wildly out into the centre of the road, whipping past him. But it wasn’t quick enough for him not to catch a glimpse of the driver. Steve bit back a groan.

_“...I’m lost then I’m found…”_

Billy Hargrove.

“Of course,” he grumbled. “Of course I’d have to see that fucking guy one more _fucking_ time before I go to college.”

The Camaro returned to the correct lane and shrunk into the distance. Steve rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

“Yeah, fuck right off!” Steve yelled at the top of his voice.

_“...and I’m hungry like the wolf…”_

Some ten minutes later, Steve pulled into the next gas station. He brought the car round to one of the pumps, braking to a stop. He turned off the engine, killing the radio.

"For the love of God," he grunted. 

Standing at the opposite gas pump, leaning against his car in those tight jeans and a red shirt that pretty much only had the bottom button done up, was Billy Hargrove. He lit a cigarette, putting it between his lips before he straightened, grabbed the pump and started filling his car.

Muttering to himself, Steve got out of his car and snatched the nearest pump out of its holder.

"Well, well, well," Billy's deep voice sounded as the sun glinted off his shades.

"Fuck off," Steve grumbled.

"If it isn't King Steve," he remarked, replacing the pump he was using and replacing the cap on his fuel tank. He wiped his fingers on the back of his jeans and took another puff of his cigarette.

"Hello, Billy," he said sarcastically. "Fancy seeing you out here."

"Can a guy get gas?" he commented. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and turned towards the gas station store.

"Maybe you should drive at the speed limit," Steve snarked, "You'd save gas."

Billy laughed, throwing his head back, showing off his bronze tanned neck.

"Hilarious, Your Majesty."

He stalked over to the store and Steve, with no small amount of shame, caught himself staring at that ass.

“Shit,” he muttered as gasoline dripped onto his fingers. He had overfilled the tank, and now the shiny liquid was dripping down the side of his car. “Poor baby,” he sighed, reaching into the car for his denim jacket to wipe at the oil. He tossed his jacket back through the window and went up to the store.

Billy was leaning on the counter as the cashier looked through their stock of cigarettes. Steve made a beeline for the tiny cafe in the corner. The girl serving looked up and smiled. She adjusted her red apron.

“What can I get you?” she asked, her expression curious as Steve leaned on the counter. She was fairly short, with hair so dark that it had a blue-black look and bold brows to match.

“Iced coffee with an extra shot,” he said, wiping sweat from the back of his neck.

“Vodka or tequila?” she remarked, as she scooped ice into a plastic cup.

Steve smirked. “Oh, vodka, definitely vodka.”

“But you’re driving,” she pointed out with a grin, her smile putting dimples in her tan cheeks.

“You’re the one who offered,” he laughed as the coffee machine whirred. He glanced around, his distaste evident when he saw Billy still practically chatting up the cashier.

“He’s good,” the server commented, her dark brown eyes flickering over towards her coworker.

“Huh?”

“The walking mullet,” she said. “He’s a big flirt, huh.”

“Yeah, he is,” Steve grumbled, tearing his eyes away from the offensive scene.

“You know him?”

“Unfortunately,” he replied.

“High school?”

“High school,” Steve sighed. “Cheers.”

“You can pay over there,” she said, nodding towards the other counter. She handed him the drink, a woven bracelet dangling from her wrist. The sunset orange threads matched her short-sleeved button down, which had yellow palm leaves on it.

“Eh, I’ll wait,” he decided, sipping on the ice-cold drink. “God, that’s good.”

“The coffee machine never lets me down,” she chuckled. “You driving far?”

“College,” he answered.

“Indiana?”

“Yeah, I was lucky to get in,” Steve remarked. “But, yeah, Indiana.”

“Me, too,” she said. A bus left a cloud of dust as it passed the gas station. “I’m catching a bus there after my shift.”

“Bloomington? That’s great,” he commented. “You don’t want to sit in a sweaty bus, do you?”

She scoffed. “Does anyone? My older brother took the car, so…”

“Hey, here’s a crazy idea,” said Steve. “How about I give you a ride?”

“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “But we’re strangers. I could be a serial killer.”

“Are you a serial killer?” he asked, deadpan.

“No, but I _could_ be,” she pointed out. “Right?”

He grinned. “Just accept the ride. No one wants to take a shitty bus for like three hours.”

“True. Okay,” she sighed. “I’m Dot,” she added, sticking out a hand.

“Steve,” he replied, shaking it. “God, he’s finally gone.”

Billy had left the store, his blaring music resuming when he turned on the engine. Soon his Camaro was out of sight.

“Maybe you’ll tell me why you hate him so much,” Dot suggested, though there was something in her tone that made Steve’s brow furrow.

“When does your shift end?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Then I’ll wait here,” said Steve.

“My bags are in the back, we can leave straight away,” said Dot.

“Sounds like a plan, Dot.”

“Thanks in advance, Steve.”

  
  
  


“See ya, Travis,” Dot called as she followed Steve out of the store, lugging a huge bag.

“That should fit in the trunk,” Steve remarked. “Theoretically.”

“Theoretically?”

“Let’s see,” he muttered, opening the trunk as he shoved his receipt in the back pocket of his jeans. He took out an electric fan, a couple of books, a can of Farah Fawcett spray and his walkman and a bunch of cassette tapes, and threw them in the backseat. He then took Dot’s bag and heaved it into the trunk. It closed, just.

“Thanks,” she said, going round to the front passenger seat. “I thought I packed light, but…”

“Believe me, that’s light,” he said, jerking his head towards the backseat.

“Oh,” she said, twisting around to notice all the cardboard boxes and junk on the backseat. “Ever thought of getting a-”

“Suitcase? Yeah, I know, God,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” she chuckled.

“It’s nothing,” he said, waving a hand as he turned the ignition on. “My friends just wouldn’t shut up about it the whole time I was trying to leave.”

"A bit of bullying is healthy in a friendship," Dot remarked.

"What?" he chuckled.

"You know, banter," she continued. She shook her head. "My Dad's from the UK, so my sense of humor mostly consists of insults."

"Right," he said, looking back at the road. "Explains why your accent is so weird."

"I can change my accent, good luck changing your face," she snorted.

"There's always plastic surgery," Steve pointed out. "Though, my face is perfect, so I don't know what you mean."

Dot laughed. "Confidence level: Steve," she said, spreading her hands theatrically.

Steve let out a short laugh. "God, you remind me of her."

"Who?"

"Robin. She's so smart, she skipped a grade in high school. But now she's leaving for MIT," Steve sighed.

"Girlfriend," Dot assumed.

"Shit, no," Steve spluttered. "Robin, she's not- she's just- she's my friend, alright? And she's not into me."

Dot leaned back in the car seat and crossed her arms. "Then, you're right. Robin and I do have something in common." She shot him a sidelong smirk and he rolled his eyes.

"Ha-ha," he drawled.

"So what's your deal with that guy?"

"Who?"

"The _guy,"_ Dot said. "You know, all hair and charm and ass. The walking mullet."

"You mean Billy," Steve grumbled.

"So he has a name?" Dot said, pretending to be impressed. "Now I have to know more."

"He's from my town," he muttered.

"I gathered that much."

"He stole my reputation, the attention I used to get, my friends," Steve complained. "All because the guys want to be him and the girls want to be with him."

"That's rough," she remarked. "How long has he been ruining your life?"

"Since senior year. I was gonna have the best year of my life, but he had to fucking ruin it. No one asked him to show up in Hawkins," Steve sighed.

"Reckon he's going to Indiana, too?" said Dot.

Steve groaned. "I hope to God he isn't."

"He really stole your friends, huh?" For asked after a moment.

"I started my summer job at Scoops Ahoy at the mall, they started to hang out with Billy instead," Steve explained. "Plus I was babysitting Dustin and his friends when their parents were out of town. I guess all my other friends got bored… Billy is more interesting than me."

Dot raised an eyebrow. "Maybe they thought you were lame because you were hanging out with kids all day."

"Excuse me, it was not all day," he scoffed.

"Scoops Ahoy?" she pointed out.

"That was the name of the ice cream place!"

"Yeah, no shit. Kiddies, all day everyday, twenty four seven."

Steve let out an explosive breath. "Okay, maybe that's true, but the walking mullet could've been a little more subtle about it."

"That's my thing," she complained.

"You copyright that shit? Didn't think so."

  
  
  


Two hours later, they stopped for a break at a service station. They got out of the car, Dot went to the ladies and Steve bought them both huge Slurpees.

"You're a lifesaver," she uttered as she walked back out into the food court. "Your car's AC is shit."

"You're welcome," he replied, handing her one of the drinks. "Apparently. Kind of stupid wearing jeans in this heat."

"Touché. Hey, want a KFC? It's around lunchtime," she suggested, nodding her head towards the row of restaurants.

"Sure, I love KFC. Oh my God," said Steve, sounding like he was going to cry as they walked towards the KFC. "Is he following me?"

"More like we're following him, but still," said Dot, slurping loudly through her straw.

"Well, well, well," Billy drawled, pushing off from the pillar he was leaning against, cigarette in hand. "Are you following me, Steve?"

"No way," Steve retorted, his posture on the defensive.

"Who's your friend?" Billy asked, smirking at Dot, who grinned in response.

"I'm Dot," she said, offering her hand. "And I'm hitchhiking with Steve."

"I'm hurt," he said, mock-upset. Then he glared at Billy as Dot shook his hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't you guess?" said Billy, letting go of Dot's hand gently. He held up a receipt with a number on it. "I'm here getting a KFC. Didn't you hear, Harrington? It's finger-lickin' good."

"This is ridiculous," Steve grumbled.

Billy took a drag from his cigarette. "I'm gonna say, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is legally stalking."

"Are we legally stalking him, Steve?" For gasped, a smile playing on her lips.

"Shut up," Steve muttered. "We are not stalking you, no need to inflate your ego any further."

Billy laughed. "My ego is just fine, Harrington. Are you two going to follow me all the way to Indiana?"

"Called it," Dot remarked.

"More like jinxed it," Steve groaned.

"So you are?" he asked with a smirk. "Maybe you'd like to ride with me instead, cutie."

Dot grinned. "Maybe next time, Billy. I think they just called your number."

"Until next time, then," said Billy, leaving a cloud of cigarette smoke as he walked towards the counter.

"I seriously can't believe this," Steve whined. "I'm gonna need the biggest bucket of wings they've got."

"I got you," said Dot, pulling out her wallet. "My treat. At least Billy's not eating in." She laughed at his sulking look. "Look, it's a big campus - you'll probably hardly see him at all."

"If you've jinxed that too, I swear to God…"

  
Steve would come to find out; Dot was _really_ good at jinxing things, it was like a fucking curse.


End file.
